Logic clearly illustrates that the hardest part is behind us, but for some insane reason it really feels impossible to take ourselves back in. To know that the illness is no longer present, but that the typical stats - which really haven't fit our mold yet, scream that this monster will invade faster, harder and smarter if we stop treatment too soon... it's a two-sided coin that constantly erodes delicate budding confidence in any of our blind decisions.
The evil monkey dancing around in the back of my brain, pulling out wires and plugging them back in willy-nilly, taunts me with fears that the last few days of chemo will have some horrible effect on my son's long-term health. He has seemed so unflappable to this point, almost too good to be true. I find myself holding my breath at every twitch or nod, searching for a clue.
I am so exhausted.
Ineffective.
Small.
I want to get off the ride, now.
And yet, others do this gauntlet and far worse ones for years.
I am Feckless.
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Of course you are most weary at the end of the race. Hang in there, your strength will get you past the finish line with flying colors.
ReplyDeleteLove Ya,
Garoleen and Joe